The Jewess and the Swineherd
by Crescent Moon Dancer
Summary: Rebecca lost one love in Wilfred of Ivanhoe, but found another in his squire. But will she finally find happiness, or will she once again be forever parted from the man she admires?


_Deny thy father and refuse thy name;  
Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love...  
-Romeo and Juliet_

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The two young people - the squire and the healer - faced one another across the sumptuous cushions that exotically furnished the apartment in which they sat. The healer's father, hovering incessantly at her shoulder as he was wont to do, had been gently but firmly sent away ere the exclusive interview began.

The interview, as it was, was going, perhaps, as the squire expected, thought it would be a blatant falsehood to state that it was what he hoped for.  
Gurth son of Beowulph - for it was he - sent to his veiled companion a look of such beseeching tenderness as would have melted the heart of any maiden less fortified with pride and resolution than the damsel whose affections he so vainly sought. Stretching forth his hands in an expression of helpless pleading, he thus addressed her:

"Wilt thou not, then, even meditate upon that which I have offered?"

The maiden lifted her chin in an unconscious gesture of pride, and though she spoke civilly, there was in her tone a kind of cool dignity that made her rebuff absolute. "I wonder at thy cruelty, sir, that thou couldst enter into my father's dwelling and mock me thus."

The yeoman looked at her with deep reproach. "Barbed and wounding are thy words," he said, "that thou would assign to me such churlish actions. Nay! thy rebuke is unjust, noble lady, for never have I spoken more sincerely than in my address to thee these moments past."

"Call me not so," she returned, softening a trifle at the unfeigned honestly in the tone of his declaration, "for thou knowest that I am no noble lady of England, but a mere Jewess, the daughter of a despised and persecuted race."

"Jewess or Saxon, thou art the noblest lady in Europe," her suitor answered. "O peerless Rebecca! thy kindness, thy generosity, thy courage, and honor, and purity, have placed on thy soul a value far above birth and station."

Dramatic gesticulations accompanying this speech served to further illustrate his sincere adoration, and Rebecca, not being, after all, entirely insensible to the ministrations of Cupid, maintained her composure with no small amount of difficulty.

"Yet, in a woman, birth and station are more highly prized than all the virtues thou couldst name," she rejoined, "and though nothing could redeem a Jew in the eyes of thy people, wealth and lofty position may serve better to alleviate their scorn than the purest of hearts."

The scathing opinions of the rest of the world were in no part reflected in her voice; indeed, her tone was laced with a kind of soft wistfulness that caused Gurth's heart to swell within his bosom.

"What care I for their views?" he cried passionately. "I was born a thrall, and I spent mine life in servitude to a nobleman; as such, I perceive the value of people beyond the intrinsic - and thee, O fair maid of God's chosen, are worth more than all those who doth hold thee and thine in contempt."

It is to be noted that Gurth, though he spoke, for the most part, truthfully, had never applied such liberal and generous views on the despised race of people, and it is to be questioned whether he, even now, afforded the honor of his worthwhile opinions to all Jews, or if they were reserved exclusively for his own people and the beautiful apparition that sat so demurely before him.

But Rebecca, unburdened by these doubts, pursued her previous line of argument.

"A thrall thou art no longer," she countered sternly," but a freeman and a landowner, and a good yeoman of thy country." Her small, delicate hands rose and fluttered agitatedly. "I am abhorred by thy countrymen - how much more wouldst they revile thee if thou shouldst join thyself to one of the Daughters of Zion, whom they so ardently loathe?"

"There are but two persons on whose opinions I place value," Gurth replied. "He who is called Wamba, my fellowthrall and friend, and Sir Wilfred of Ivanhoe, my master whom I serve and love."

Though he could not perceive with his eyes the rosy blush that suffused the beautiful Jewess's cheeks, he heard her breath catch and quicken, and he cursed himself as he remembered, belatedly, that Rebecca once loved - and possibly still did love - the knight to whom he was esquired.

"And I?" the damsel inquired, recovering herself and regaining that composure which had so briefly slipped. "Dost thou care aught of my opinion of thee?"

"In truth, Lady," the Saxon answered, "my love for thee is such that I need not care what thou thinkest of me. Curse me to the flames of Hell, if thou so wish. My love for thee wouldst remain ever steadfast."

"Father Abraham!" Rebecca ejaculated, shocked by his blunt remark, "never would I do so!"

"I would fain be surprised if thou didst," he replied; then, reaching out, he clasped her hand, as though he were a drowning man and she the line that promised him life. "Fair Rebecca - blooming flower of Israel! - canst thou not, then, find it in thyself to reciprocate the admiration which I so dearly harbor for thee?"

"Thinkest not that thy affections be unrequited," the lovely maiden said, nevertheless withdrawing her hand from his gentle grasp. "I trow my regard for Sir Ivanhoe has not altogether diminished, yet I could still love thee."

She paused, blushing again at the brashness of her statement. How easily the words slipped out, ere she was even fully aware of them! The look of glowing hope on Gurth's face was more than she could bear, and she hastened to add: "'Tis not that which impedes our union, noble Squire."

"What, then?" he said, "wouldst thou reject my advances because of the portion of thy heart still claimed by my lord Ivanhoe? Sweet Rebecca," and his face twisted as though he were pained, "thou knowest he is wed to the Lady Rowena, and thus forever beyond thy reach."

"And no less art thou!" Abruptly, the Jewish healer stood, and paced around the exotic chamber like an agitated lioness in a gilded cage. "The law of our people, set down by God Himself, forbids my people marrying Gentiles." She stopped before the squire and cast him a look of helplessness from behind the frosty veil that shrouded her features. "So thou seest," she whispered, "what thee ask is impossible."

Gurth, who had hastily risen when she did, took a step towards her. His large, weathered hands - hardened and calloused from so many years labor - twitched, as though he longed to take her hand once again, but he restrained himself.

"And if thou shouldst renounce Judaism?" he inquired gently. "If thou shouldst convert?" Rebecca gasped and actually staggered back a step, staring at him with a kind of horrified fascination.

"Speakest not such things!" she cried. "Wouldst thou have me relinquish that by which I was raised, and that which I believe? Wouldst thou change who I am?" She shook her dark head, her clasped hands raised to her breast. "Nay! if thou truly love me, thou cannot ask such of me."

"I shall perish for want of thy love," he groaned, "but gladly will I suffer for thy sake. But," and again he stepped forward, "is there no way to circumvent this law, without breaking it entirely?"

"Thou wouldst have me disobey the word of the Most High for the sake of another sinful human?" Rebecca shook her head again. "Nay, but 'tis idolatry, and dishonest at that." The damsel sighed silently, her breath stirring the veil. "Alas! I fear a union between us may never come to pass."

There was a short pause. "Then," Gurth said, "there is no further reason for me to linger. Every minute that passeth in thy company, when I know thou are forever barred from me, is but a torment nigh unbearable." Bowing low, he took her hand and bestowed on the knuckles a soft kiss. "Fare thee well, fair Lady," he said. "Long shall I cherish the memory of thy word and touch." Straightening up, he turned on his heel and strode swiftly from the room, the haste of his departure bearing testimony to the truth of his words when he spoke of the torment of his soul.

Rebecca stood for a moment alone, staring at the door through which the squire had passed; then, casting herself upon the silken cushions, she succumbed to the fervent expression of her grief and despair.

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